


To Have Someone To Wake You

by flotsam45



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Prince!lock, how does royalty work, i still don't understand, or kings i guess?, they're both princes in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flotsam45/pseuds/flotsam45
Summary: Much to his dismay, John is married off to the king of a neighboring kingdom, but perhaps he is not as awful as John once though.Revised RP from March 2013





	

John sat on the bed, fully dressed in the skimpy nightclothes that had been provided for him. It was ridiculous. He was a prince, due to inherit the throne since his elder sister had sworn off marriage, but instead he’d been carted off and forced to marry some foreign King he’d only ever exchanged formalities with at galas and the like, and his sister married to a Duke she didn't know, who would claim their kingdom as his own. This man, Sherlock, had demanded John's hand in marriage, and his parents all but happily obliged. He knew very little of this man except that he could be cold and cruel. He was frightened beyond belief. Why on earth had he picked _John_ , of all people, to be his husband? Since his arrival at the palace, he had only seen Sherlock once and that was at the ceremony. He had looked cold and collected. No love awaited him. John scowled, at the night clothes. He knew what they meant, he was expected to consummate the marriage tonight, and he was slightly terrified at the idea. He'd never been with anyone that way, and here he was, engaged and wed within a week.

 

Sherlock walked briskly through the halls of the castle, towards the bedroom. He had been incredibly pleased when he had married John, but he could not say the same about his husband. Sighing, he opened the door to the room, and found John sitting on the bed, obviously fuming about something. The 'something' being their marriage. "Good evening." he said.

 

John turned his head when he heard the door creak open and saw his new husband step inside. He quickly stood to greet the man. "Good evening," he nodded.

 

Sherlock managed out a small smile and he sat on the bed. He was silent as he removed his shoes and other pieces of clothing until he was in his plain white shirt and black slacks. He tossed them onto the back of the sofa nearby.

 

John shifted uncomfortably as he watched Sherlock undress, unsure of what he should do.

 

Sherlock took note of this. He sighed internally, not knowing what to do. He had never had a lover before, but when he had seen John, he had known that he wanted John to be his. However, Sherlock knew he was not good at expressing himself, and knew that he was thought to have no emotion. He needed time to gather his thoughts. "I am going to have a bath. Excuse me." he said softly, standing up and walking to the adjoined bathroom.

 

John watched him go and sat back down on the bed and stared at the opposite wall. Well this was just peachy. He was so embarrassed and uncomfortable and he wanted nothing more than to be back home by the fire, reading one of his books. But no; he was sitting in this foreign king's bedchamber and was scared to death. He needed a hot cup of tea right about now.

 

Sherlock sat in the tub, slumping down so his mouth was barely out of the water. He sighed. He could tell John was uncomfortable around him. John didn't want to be here. John didn't want to have married him. Sherlock let out a small groan. How was he supposed to go about forming a relationship with his husband if his husband didn't want to? Sherlock allowed himself to slip underwater completely, letting himself be soothed by the warm water encasing him.

 

After sitting alone for awhile, John decided to go ahead and slip under the covers. Maybe if he fell asleep, Sherlock would understand and not pressure him tonight. Maybe not... It was worth a try anyway.

 

After a minute and a half, Sherlock emerged from the water. He had always had an unusual ability to hold his breath. While he was submerged, he had decided that he'd take it slow with John, and had even come up with a few sentences that sounded gentle and kind. Perhaps then, John would eventually trust him, and learn to love him. Sherlock hissed in frustration, realizing how hopeless the situation was. He got out of the tub and dried off, slipping into his night clothes. He made his way back into the bedroom, where he found John lying under the covers. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Was he supposed to get into bed with John? Would that be taking things too fast? Should he sleep on the sofa? Sherlock sighed softly, running a hand through his damp hair. Perhaps he'd sit on the sofa for a while and read. He nodded to himself - he was able to go for several days without sleeping. He'd just  _ not sleep _ . Simple.

 

John head Sherlock reenter the room and he stayed as still as possible, pretending to be asleep. When Sherlock didn't join him in bed, John assumed it was probably best if he just fell asleep maybe a fresh start in the morning would help. But morning didn't come as fast as he wished. In the middle of the night, John was having terrible dreams and thrashing about in bed, unable to wake himself.

 

Sherlock looked up at the noise of sheets rustling. He glanced over at John, and was bewildered to find his husband tangling himself in the sheets, his face in a grimace. 'Nightmare?' he wondered. He got up and walked over cautiously. He placed a hand on John's shoulder. "John." he called out. There was no change in the man's behavior - he still looked terrified and continued to writhe. "John!"

 

John's eyes blinked open suddenly and he jumped, having forgotten where he was and having a stranger's hand on him. "Get off- oh! It's just you." He breathed heavily and closed his eyes, feeling beyond humiliated and terrified.

 

Sherlock looked at John, eyes full of concern. "Are...Are you alright? Would you like me to get you something? Water?"

 

John swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, please."

 

Sherlock walked over to the sink, filled a cup with cool water and returned, handing it to John.

 

"Thanks," he smiled weakly as he sat up and took the cup from Sherlock. He downed it quickly and placed it on the bedside table, leaning his head back against the headboard and attempting to regain his composure.

 

Sherlock stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Comfort him? Would that make him uncomfortable? Or would it make him feel better? But they were basically still strangers - nevermind that Sherlock knew almost everything about John. Sherlock frowned, deep in thought.

 

John turned his head slightly and looked at Sherlock with a puzzled expression, "Everything alright?"

 

Startled, Sherlock looked at John. His heart warmed at the thought of John being concerned about him, even if it was only a bit. "I believe I should be the one asking you that." he said hesitantly.

 

"I'll be fine," he assured him, although not entirely convinced himself.

 

“Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, genuine concern in his eyes. He sighed. "John, I know that I rushed our marriage quite a bit, and I know that you are not comfortable being with me. But please know that I do care for you. I want to help you when I can, and I hope that one day, you will be willing to do the same for me. I realize that I may just be a stranger to you, but... I would like it if I could be more..." he trailed off awkwardly.

 

John looked him over carefully and waited a moment before nodding. "Thank you. I didn't realize you were so fond of me..."

 

Sherlock's face slowly became tinted red. He nodded silently, looking at the ground intently.

 

“Oh," he said surprised.

 

Sherlock made eye contact for a moment, before studying the ground again. "Well, then. If you're sure you're alright, you'd probably best get back to sleep."

 

"Alright," he sighed, scooting back down under the covers and not entirely certain he could fall back asleep without waking again from a nightmare.

 

Sherlock looked at John for a moment before, and after some intense internal argument, he leaned down and kissed his cheek gently, pulling away quickly. "Sweet dreams." he whispered and went back to the sofa to continue his reading, his face bright red.

 

John blinked and lightly touched the spot where Sherlock had kissed him, feeling a slightly warm and tingly sensation. "Are you planning on sleeping on the sofa?"

 

"No. I don't plan on sleeping."

 

"What?" John sat up. "That's ridiculous! Today was extremely long and exhausting and you're not going to sleep?"

 

"It's fine. I've gone longer without sleep on days that were much more taxing."

 

“You don't sleep?"

 

Sherlock shrugged. "Occasionally."

 

John raised his eyebrows in shock.

 

Sherlock looked over at him, amused. "It's fine. Really. Now go to sleep."

 

He laid back down and pulled the covers up to his chin and willing himself to sleep. It wasn't long, however, until he was thrashing around again.

 

Sherlock woke him in the same fashion that he had done earlier. "John!"

 

John awoke with a start and covered his face with his hands. "Oh god... not again..."

 

Sherlock looked at John for a moment. "Water?"

 

“It's okay," he shook his head. "I'll be alright."

 

Sherlock frowned. Hesitantly he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do...you want to talk about it?" Sherlock asked quietly. "You don't have to, but it will help."

 

"I'm not so sure it will," John sighed. "It happens all the time but no one's ever there to wake me up or comfort me. I'm used to trudging through."

 

"And would it be so bad if I were the first to do so?" Sherlock asked. He winced, reminding himself that he was not as close to John as he would've liked. "I apologize. I understand if you do not wish to share your nightmares with a stranger."

 

"It's... okay," John finally said. "I'm sure you don't want to be troubled with these things anyway." 

 

"John, I thought I made clear to you that I care for you. I want to help you." 

 

John swallowed hard before finally nodding. "Alright. These... nightmares happen a lot. I've had them ever since the war." 

 

Sherlock frowned. "The war?"

 

"Sorry, I guess you wouldn't have heard about that. The country neighboring mine has had this feud for centuries and it reached a climax a few years back," John began. "We needed all the young and able bodied men we could get and so I fought in the war." 

 

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up. "That was very...noble of you. Most princes wouldn't even bother giving that action a thought." he said, obviously impressed. 

 

"It was my duty," he said simply. 

 

Sherlock nodded slowly. 

 

"I was, um, injured as well so a lot of the nightmares are about that." 

 

"Injured? Where?" Sherlock demanded, concern flashing across his features. 

 

John slid the sleeve of his nightclothes down slightly to reveal a deep scar on his left shoulder. 

 

Sherlock stared at the scar. "Oh..." he breathed. "I'm....sorry. Does it still hurt?"

 

"Sometimes, but it's nothing; really," John assured him as he slid the sleeve back into place. 

 

Sherlock had no idea what to do. He had never been good with people. Growing up as a prince, he had few friends, and even fewer because of his social awkwardness. He had never been in a situation like this, and it made him feel inadequate that he was not able to comfort a person he cared about.

 

"Don't worry about it," John smiled lightly. "I'll get through like I always do." He shifted down into the covers and curled up into a ball, watching Sherlock. 

 

"Is there anything you would like me to do? Would a little music help?" Sherlock asked slowly. 

 

"Music?" John raised an eyebrow. 

 

Sherlock nodded. "I play the violin."

 

"Really?" John sat up a bit. 

 

Sherlock nodded. "Shall I?" 

 

John contemplated him a moment. "Yeah." 

 

Sherlock nodded once more before going across the room and opening his violin case. "Any preference?" he asked.

 

"Surprise me," he said with a smile. 

 

Sherlock smirked, put the bow up to the strings, and began to play. He had no particular piece in mind, and just let his fingers shape sound that expressed their situation. A prince, in a foreign land, a bit lost. A second prince, trying to gain his trust. The comfort Sherlock wished to express came in long, drawn out, melodic notes. Lows and highs melted together, never clashing. Each note grew softer and softer until the last note was barely audible. 

 

John smiled as he settled back into the bed and listened to the soft melody. The music was the most comforting thing he had experienced since being in the palace and he was sound asleep by the time Sherlock played the last note. 

 

Sherlock brought the violin down from his chin and looked over at John and was surprised that he had already fallen asleep. But having fallen asleep did not necessarily mean that he'd stay in that peaceful state of mind. Sherlock brought the violin up to his chin again, and began to play a slow song softly.

  
John slept dreamlessly and peacefully through the night, Sherlock’s lullaby helping him to sleep till the morning. 


End file.
